Troubled Souls (CreEk)
by 4shadesofbeatle
Summary: "You'd think that I'd be over it by now, I mean, mostly everyone was by now except me. Heck, things were so quiet now that he's not around anymore. No violent twitching by my side, no loud outbursts about the apocalypse or gnomes. It wasn't at all normal, not at all…"
1. Chapter 1

**TROUBLED SOULS**

_**DISCLAIMER:**_ I do not own South Park Trey and Matt do, nor Gone, Gone, Gone by Philip Philips. I mean, if I did own those two things, do you think I'd be sitting here writing this?

_**A/N: **_I just found an unfinished portion of this in my notebook today so I thought I'd upload it.

You'd think that I'd be over it by now, I mean, mostly everyone was by now except me. Heck, things were so quiet now that he's not around anymore. No violent twitching by my side, no loud outbursts about the apocalypse or gnomes. It wasn't at all normal, not at all…

| | Early That Month | |

I was seriously going to kill someone, out of all the things Cartman could've done, this was probably one of the worst. I sighed and growled at the sight of the one hundred and sixty-eight pound fifteen year old strutting in front of me. Finally, loosing my temper as always, and growing sick of just flipping him off behind his back, I charged up behind him. I snatched the back of his backpack strap, which made him choke slightly and stumble backwards.

"Why the hell did you do that?" I snarled as he put on an expression of worriment. "Do what?" He said in his 'voice of innocence'. "You know damn well what you did! And you know what I'm going to do?" Cartman gulped, looking at my icy blue eyes. "What?" His voice was wavering slightly. "Nothing!" We were both taken aback; I let go of his backpack strap and stood still. "Oh." The fat boy said, regaining his composure. "Okay then, good for you Craig." He patted my head, and I snarled. He waved his finger in front of my nose, and I was tempted to bite it off. "Make violence not- oof!" Before he could finish his sentence I kneed him in the crotch. "Don't talk to me." I retorted and walked away slowly.

As I approached the school I began to walk alongside Clyde and Token. "Dude no." Token said, obviously annoyed by Clyde's remarks. "Dude, Craig, shouldn't we have a party at Token's? It'd be so awes-" "No." Clyde looked at me, "Why?" he asked. "'Cause, his 'rents would freak probably." The brune was quiet and continued to slowly walk with us; luckily he didn't have time to take up another conversation, knowing we were already inside the school. "See you." I said heading to my locker, it taking me three tries to get the combination right. As I shoved my backpack into my locker, I heard a loud: "ARGGGG!" and jumped, slightly startled. Tweek, figures. As I slammed my locker shut I instinctively went to Tweek's' (On occasion our small group meets there.) "Sup?" I said, leaning against the locker beside his. He jumped and yelped, then mumbled a response; "H-hey Craig. Wh-what are you doing- GAH –here so early?" I regretted the words as soon as I said them. "Actually, you're late." "WHAT?! JESUS CHRIST!" He started shoving papers and making a disorganized mess. My eyes drifted to the front of his locker, I was angered at the sight, a bit more than I should've been actually. "Dude?" "GAH! Yes?" I sighed, tracing the sticky-notes with my index finger. Upon doing so, I took one off and turned him to face me. "Why do you take shit from other people?"

I looked at him with sympathetic eyes, scanning him for any other sort of emotion than usual. The sticky-note read: 'Freak'. Trust me, it wasn't a terribly bad word, but keep in mind, there were more on there. There was no response from him, he simply bit his lip and looked away, turning back to the inside of his locker. The weirdest part of it all was that he stood still. Perfectly. Still. After a few seconds passed, he began trembling again.

"So C-Craig, what d- JESUS –do we h-have f-first?" I looked at him with confusion; he'd just dropped the subject like it was nothing! I decided to let it go for the time being and answer his question. "Biology." I muttered, and I swore I saw something trickle down his cheek, but he had wiped it away too fast for me to see.

Then, the burning rage filled inside me as I turned around, I saw Eric Cartman, laughing, practically rolling around on the ground and his sight was in the direction of Tweek's locker. That bastard, he'd done it again, but this time, I wasn't going to put up with it again.

After school ended I walked back to my locker, quickly shoving my books and other things into it. I wanted to talk to Tweek about the notes before he left. As I rushed to his locker, not bothering to zip up my backpack, he wasn't there. Surly he couldn't have left already? I glanced at my watch, I'd gotten everything into my locker in mere seconds. It took him approximately three minutes to get his locker _open_. But that's when I noticed it, the lock was on the same number it was when he left for class in the morning. What? Its good to be observant! So, he hadn't come to his locker before he left? That was odd, considering he usually had spaz-attacks every time he forgot his school stuff. Well it was a Friday, so maybe…? No, he wouldn't just leave his stuff here overnight. I looked into the stampede of teens and saw the crazy blonde hair that stuck up everywhere. I smiled in relief and rushed towards it, but soon it disappeared into the crowd. I sighed, shrugged, and decided I'd text him about it.

I set my stuff down on my couch at home, my parents weren't home yet, and neither was my sister, so that was a plus.

_Hey tweeks_

I don't really know why I called him that. It just felt natural.

_Tweeks?_

_Need 2 talk 2 u abot notes on ur lock_

_Dude _

_Thas it im callin u_

I didn't really like to write in full sentences and stuff. That took too long. I decided I'd give him time to respond and wait ten minutes. It felt like the longest ten minutes of my life. Finally, after they passed, I picked up the phone and dialed his number.

"Oh god pick up, pick up." I mumbled into the speaker.

Nothing. Great. I set my phone down and sat on the couch, twirling my thumbs around and looking down at the ground. I decided he'd probably call me overnight about the underpants gnomes and left it alone for now.

Night quickly approached and passed, no call or text from the spazzy blonde. I woke up to the sound of crashing around the house. I heard Ruby screaming about having to have someone to take her to the mall. After that I heard the car door slam and drive away. Both of them went? Great, house to myself. As twelve thirty soon came, I heard a knock on my front door. I looked through the small hole in the door to see who it was. Mr. and Mrs. Tweak? I hurried to open the door, causing one of the hinges to break; our house wasn't the most adequate. Mrs. Tweak tapped her eyes with a tissue, her mascara running down her face. "Yes?" I said, tilting my head, to the left slightly. "C-Craig honey? Are your parents home?" She asked, sniffling every other word. "No." "Well, w-we just wanted-wanted to tell you that…that- oh lord!" Mrs. Tweak broke down and wrapped her arms around her husband and my eyes widened, I was tempted to shake her, but I didn't. "What?" I said concerned. "Well," Mr. Tweak began, "we don't exactly know where Tweek is." My heart stopped, I think I stopped breathing altogether. I could tell Mrs. Tweak noticed, she put an arm to my shoulder. "Don't worry sweetie, the police-" I slammed the door on them, causing the other hinge to break off. I sprinted down the hallway and grabbed my blue jacket and hat, both of which were too small now, but that didn't matter at the moment. I opened to door again and wheezed out a response, having his my chest on the corner of the door whilst opening it. "When?" "He didn't come back from school, so sometime around then. But Mister Tucker, I ask that you don't get involved-" Too late. I dashed out the door, under their noses and left the door open so the last hinge didn't break off.

I didn't really know where I was going, so I stopped to get a game plan. Then it hit me. "Oh god dammit!" I growled and stopped. "If the police come after him, he's just gonna get even more freaked and keep running. If he's not…" My voice trailed off as I shook my head, continuing to run. Maybe he retreated to Canada? No. I don't think so. Then it occurred to me. If even _I_ go after him, he'll freak. There was no easy way out of this, so I just decided to walk back home and wait it out. He knows I care about him right? He'll come back right?

"Two days since the child named Tweek Tweak has been missing." The T.V. blared in my ears.

"Three days since the loss of Tweak Tweek."

"Four…"

"Five…"

"Six…"

"It has been a week since the child has been missing! Where could he be I wonder? How has he survived this-" I shut off the T.V. shoving a pillow into my face.

"Finally, after a week and a half of waiting we have answers about the missing child; Tweak Tweek!" I sat up abruptly, my eyes and ears glued to the television. "Early this morning at four fifty three am a small fifteen year old child was found lying in the middle of the woods. He looked lost-" I practically felt overjoyed, I felt happy, I felt- "but he was not lost in fact-" What. "-the police had called out to him, but to no avail. As the Po-po inched forwards-" The newscaster made a crawling motion with his body. "-all they found was a corpse of the dead child we had been indeed looking for. He was proposed to have starved. Glad to see it wasn't a spider! I hate those things!" I turned off the television; I couldn't live with hearing the mocking voice of the stupid newscaster. Dead? Starvation? Why? Didn't he know I cared? Thousands of questions raced through my head. I felt hot tears drip down my face, then I sat back on the couch, feeling lightheaded all of a sudden.

| | Present Day | |

That had honestly been the worst news of my life. As I sat in the woods I heard owls and birds singing their songs of depression. This was where my best friend and, whom I considered more than a friend was lost. I sat here every night, hoping he'd come back. My iPod played softly in the background of my thoughts.

_When life leaves you high and dry I'll be at your door tonight;_

_If you need help._

_If you need help._

_I'll shut down the city lights,_

_I'll lie, cheat, beg and bribe;_

_To make you well,_

_To make you well. _

The verses played over in my mind, oh how I related to most of them. I tried to help didn't I? I…didn't I?

_Your hope dangling by a string_

_I'll share in your suffering _

_To make you well_

_To make you well._

Was he actually lost? Did he soon regret going out on his own and want to come home? Or did he just loose hope to go on…

_Give me reasons to believe _

_That you would do_

_the same for me._

_And I would do it_

_For you_

_For you._

_You will never sleep alone,_

_I'll love you long after you're gone._

_For you,_

_For you._

_Baby I'm not moving on _

_I'll love you long after you're gone._

_Yeah long after you're gone, gone, gone._

I felt the same feeling as I did that evening. Hot tears rushing down my face, curled up in a ball, cold wet grass beneath me. Nobody to go to for comfort. Just…myself.

_And if your heart is empty _

_Not a thing will prevent me_

_Tell me what you need,_

_What do you need?_

_I surrender honestly,_

_You've always done the same_

_For me._

_So I would do it_

_For you_

_For you._

_You will never sleep alone,_

_I'll love you long after you're gone._

_For you,_

_For you._

_Baby I'm not moving on _

_I'll love you long after you're gone._

_Yeah long after you're gone, gone, gone._

"Stop it." I mumbled as the song mocked my despair, it had no idea what I went through. I have refused to eat for the past weak and three days. Nothing but water.

_You're my backbone_

_You're my cornerstone._

_You're my crutch _

_When my legs stop moving._

_You're my head-start,_

_You're my rugged heart._

_You're the pokes that_

_I've always needed._

So I'd-

_Like a drum,_

_Baby don't stop beating._

_Like a drum,_

_Baby don't stop beating._

_Like a drum,_

_Baby don't stop beating._

_Like a drum my heart _

_Never stops beating,_

_For you._

_And long after you're _

_Gone, gone, gone._

-Just-

_I love you long after you're_

_Gone, gone, gone._

-Die.

My face body felt cold, my stomach growled. Then all was silent and black.

**A/N: **Hello again! I'm planning on continuing this, but I would like your guys' opinions on it! I absolutely love this pairing. It's my OTP to be honest. Alright! I'mma go now! Bye ^^


	2. Chapter 2

**TROUBLED SOULS **(Part 2)

_**DISCLAIMER:**_ **I DO NOT OWN SOUTH PARK CHARACTERS MATT AND TREY DO I ALSO DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE SONG/BANDS MENTIONED EITHER.**

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello again! Its been…what, 167 days since I did that other part to this? Yeaaah, April 28__th__ I believe, but anyways, I'm sorry for such a delay. I have been working on school and other small short stories that I've been caught up in. I will try to release parts every week, ja or nein? Anyways, to those of you who'll actually read this…enjoy!_

Loud honking filled the polluted air, echoing throughout the highway. "C'mon douche, move out of the way!" A raven-haired male screamed from an old beat-up truck.

Loud screaming music blasted throughout the truck, as the bass began to pick up, the traffic followed suit. The music began to gradually get softer until no melody at all was heard. A brunette sat in the passengers seat, not minding the sudden guitar picking up, just sitting contently eating some greasy fast food. The brunette looked at the raven-haired boy and shrugged, rolling down his window and letting his arm hang out it. The brunette looked at the raven with his matching brown eyes and frowned. Reaching over the crappy half-broken cup holders, he grabbed the unlit cigarette from the dark haired boys' lips and then repositioned himself back in his seat.

"Hey, what the hell?" The raven growled as the brunette shrugged. "You know I don't feel comfortable with you smoking and driving, Craig." The boy referred to as Craig sighed and nodded, turning his attention from the brunette back to the crowded street. "Yeah, I know." He pursed his lips in a pouting manor and grumbled, sitting all the way back in his seat. Not being able to handle another awkward silence, the brunette spoke up again. "Hey, I appreciate you driving me over to Bebe's today." He interrupted his own statement to take a bite of the greasy taco he held in his hands. "I would've drove there myself but my car isn't done yet." Craig nodded and flicked his wrist. "Shut up Clyde." He mumbled, glancing at the pack of cigarettes that lay on the middle-section of the truck. Clyde eyed them as well, and then they both met each other's gaze. "Craig, I said no, you know how I feel-" The raven ignored his friends' plea and lunged for the pack of _American Spirits_ cigarettes. "Craig!" Clyde grabbed the wheel of the car and tried to keep it steady on the road. "Heh." The raven chuckled, both hands on the _American Spirits _as Clyde's were steering for him. "This isn't funny!" Clyde said, tears welling up in his eyes as he tried to keep his glare on his friend. "Oh jesus, Clyde don't be such a nine-year-old." Craig mumbled with an eye roll. "Well we could crash!" The brunette said, wiping the tears with his red short-sleeved shirt. Craig took hold of the wheel again and shoved the cigarette pack in his pocket subtly. "Thank you." Clyde said grumpily as he looked over to the side of the road. "Here's her house." He said tapping on the glass, pointing at the house with dark red paint.

Of course, Bebe's window was open, revealing her still purple wall and bed sheets. Bebe looked outwards into the distance as if trying to find something.

"Thanks again, dude." Clyde said opening the truck door and jumping out, taking his crumbled up trash with him. "Yeah, whatever, just don't let it happen again. I hate driving you places." Clyde chuckled and slammed the car door, Bebe noticing his presence and rushing out of her room to greet him.

The raven began backing up his truck into the street, the pulled around the curb and slammed on the accelerator. He sighed and grabbed the cigarette pack out of his pocket, looking at it for a couple seconds, as if studying it. He then threw it over to the passengers seat aggressively and shook his head.

"Not right now." He said to himself, taking one hand off the half-ripped leather to grab his phone from his front jean pocket—well, attempting to anyways.

It didn't exactly work out as he'd hoped, instead of grabbing his pocket, he grabbed a tear in his jeans, causing it to tear even more. He growled and put his hand back on the wheel, not even giving it a second try, knowing it wasn't going to work anyways. Instead of turning into his short brown house, he continued driving past it, past the entrance into South Park. This would definitely be a longer ride than he had hoped.

| | **An hour ½ later **| |

Craig finally arrived at North Park, trying to navigate his way through the busy traffic that was usual on a Friday evening. Groaning, he turned the station from Linkin Park to something a bit more…calming. Upon finding a song by Katy Perry or Train, he decided to go with Train, given he wasn't much for pop culture. It was only about ten more minutes till he reached his destination, all he had to do was hang in there for ten more minutes, then he could see him again. Five minutes passed and the artist changed from Train to Eminem. Craig really did like the guy, but he wasn't in the mood to listen to sexist comments and complaints about betrayal, drugs, and so on. Deciding there was nothing good on, he turned on his phone and selected the song he listened to on _that night. _Biting his pierced lip, he shook his head, his straight black locks moving around with him. Deciding this was a bad idea, his finger lingered over the skip button. Craig wanted to skip it, but there was this other feeling inside him, a feeling of regret if he didn't. He let the song go as far as the chorus, then quickly pressed the skip button before he burst into tears too soon. Backstreet Boys came up, and Craig had exhausted all his other options and left it. After what felt like years, Craig had arrived at his destination. He turned into the gravel parking lot and parked the piece-of-shit-truck, quickly grabbing the _American Spirits_ pack, an envelope, and a book, the title read; "Unbroken" on the spine in golden print it said; "Laura Hillenbrand".

The raven grunted as he jumped out of the drivers' seat and onto the wet gravel. Craig just assumed it had just rained, but then saw the sprinkler next to where the patch of green grass began and realized.

"Should probably move my truck." He said matter-of-factly, but then shrugged, un-wrinkling his white shirt that read in big red print;

"AIN'T NO REST FOR THE WICKED"

and then continued onwards, trudging into the green, dewy pasture. As he got farther and deeper he began to see grey, faded tombstones with names like Nancy, Katie, Josh, Howard and even Eric carved into them. Craig smiled, if only that was Eric Cartman, then there would be a reason to celebrate here. Hell, Craig would dance on his god damn grave if it really _was _the Cartman he knew. But alas, that Eric was still living, breathing and functioning; unfortunately. Finally, after he reached row eight, tombstone three, he stopped, giving a heavy sigh. Many ripped papers and cigarette boxes were lying beside the gravestone.

"Nice to see you again." Craig could feel his stomach lurching again, just like _that night._ "I hope you didn't miss me too much." He chuckled to himself. "It's that time of year again, huh?" He sighed, clutching the envelope close to his chest as the wind blew by. "Hard to believe I only come here twice every year." He said, eyes welling up with salty, bitter tears. "I grabbed this—" Craig placed the book on the dirt mound, placing a medium sized rock over it so it wouldn't blow away. "—You've always wanted to read it, I remember you telling me." He said, the waterworks already starting, God just sitting back to watch it fall into play. "I also—" Craig sniffed, his tears and snot (which he was not too proud about) dripping onto the grass. Craig tried again; "I also brought this, like I always do." He opened the envelope to reveal the yellow sticky notes from three years ago.

Craig closed his eyes, grabbing one at random, then pulling it out. Showing it to the tombstone—as if it'd register what it said –he frowned, then read the scribbled words aloud.

"Sociopath."

He wiped a rather large tear off his cheek and ripped the note to shreds. "Not anymore you're not." He stuttered, holding in a choked sob. "Not that you ever were in the first place." He said, grabbing his hat (that was in fact, way too small for him) and placing it on his chest as he lay down next to the faded grey stone.

The raven pulled out the _American Spirits_ and lit one of the cigarettes, with his pocket-lighter. Placing it between his lips, he threw the box over his shoulder as it landed into the grass with a THUMP.

"You know—" Craig sat up, "—today and the other time I visit are the only times I smoke. You should feel pretty special." He said, hugging his knees to his chest. "Although you were always special to me, you know that right?" There was silence. "I'm sure you do." Craig smiled and rest his head on the side of the grave. "Also…" The wind blew his blue hat a little off his lap, but he could care less. "I love you."

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: So yeah! That's it for now, lemme know if you want more! I'll try to keep updates on all fanfictions weekly so- yeah! Hope you enjoyed that, I enjoyed/died writing it but meh. Bye for now!_


End file.
